Pushing Blood Slides
by Tinkerz788
Summary: Dead men tell no tale. Unless Ned shows up. His ability could very well expose Dexter as the bay harbor butcher. Can Ned escape the Dark Passenger and attempt to stop him? Or will he even accept the ways of Dexter?


*I don't own Dexter or Pushing Daisies, this is just for entertainment purposes.  
A thank you to Sable and Alana for helping me out as well (:  
I hope you enjoy!

Dexter despised men like this one. Harold Greene was just like any other person he had on his table. The only thing in common between himself and his next victim was they were both monsters. As Dexter woke his next victim, he reached for his scalpel. He knew what came next; it was instinct. Harold squirmed, using up his energy. Dexter knew he wouldn't be able to get out of the saran-wrap. No one ever did. Little Chino was a mistake. He had underestimated his strength. A stupid mistake that would never ever happen again. He would make sure of that. As Dexter sliced the cheek of the man, he prepared to get his blood slide. He knew he'd fit right in with his other slides, his other monster neighbors. All victims of Harry's Code. Dexter held up the new blood slide, his new trophy. Blood, sometimes it set his teeth on edge, other times it helped him control the chaos. The muffled screams of the Harold brought Dexter back to reality. He gave the man a slap.  
"No one can hear you." He pulled the cloth out of the man's mouth.  
"Please, I'll give you anything, money, my car, whatever you want." They were always so desperate. Still seemed almost human, had he not taken a ride with their Dark Passengers. The only way to get rid of a Dark Passenger, is to take out the driver.

"Do you know why you're here?" Dexter walked towards the hanging pictures of the young children. He imagined Astor and Cody up there with the others. If he had any feelings at all, he would have felt deep rage.  
"Please, anything you want…" Harold sobbed, still begging for his life. This irritated him. He whipped around, gripping the table tightly on both sides, he brought his face close to Harold's.  
_"DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU ARE HERE?!"_ Dexter didn't shout often. But in moments like this he couldn't seem to control himself. It was as if the Dark Passenger was talking through him. The man continued to sob.  
"Yes… I know." His words were filled with guilt and regret. Dexter didn't pity him. He never did pity his victims, because they all deserved it. "I didn't want to… I… I didn't mean to. I wanted to stop… but I couldn't… Please…" Dexter put his finger in the center of Harold's forehead.  
"Is that what they did to you? Begged you for their lives? But you didn't listen. You just killed them, without a second thought. Dumped them in the garbage. Well now it's your turn. Except, where you're going, is with the fish, but I'd still be taking out the trash either way." Dexter reached for his tools, his hand hovering over his power saw, but stopped ever so slightly. Voices. They were nearing closer. He clenched his fist as his face twisted into a snarl. Turning to Harold, his jaw clenched. Dexter grabbed one of his knives. It would be a clean cut, silent and quick. But not for Harold. He would bleed out, suffocate on his own blood. He could live with that. He sliced Harold's jugular effortlessly. The voices were getting closer. This place was supposed to be abandoned. Forgotten. Why were others here? Dexter quickly and soundlessly cleaned himself up the best he could and hid out of sight. The voices were now joined by footsteps. They grew louder. He held a syringe in his mouth, with another in his hand.

"You know I wish I could have lived my life before I was-" Chuck's words were cut off from Ned who had stopped abruptly.

"Dead." He said, staring ahead.  
"I was going to say murdered, but-" Once more Chuck's words were cut short.  
"No, I mean he's dead. Harold Greene. Missing person." Chuck followed Ned's gaze to see the scene in front of them.  
"How do you think it happened?" Chuck questioned, approaching the body.  
"Unless he's got extra limbs that we ain't know about and would let him be able to wrap himself up in saran-wrap and then slice his own jugular, I'd say he was… I don't know. Murdered." Emerson wasn't one for chitchat. Ned walked towards Harold with his arms behind his back. Bending over, he observed the wound of the victim.  
"This blood is fresh. Extremely fresh. Like it's still pouring out of the body fresh. Also, he's naked…" Ned quickly jumped back in alarm as a drop of blood from the table fell.  
"Are you suggesting that the killer might still be here?" Chuck questioned, looking around for any movement. Emerson gripped his gun tickly as Ned slowly walked behind him as if for protection.  
"Son, get your ass to that body and bring him back to life with your magical finger. We ain't got all day. The sooner we figure out who killed him, the sooner I can try to collect a reward for finding him and catching whoever did this." Ned slowly walked towards the body, with his watch ready to set the time to one minute exactly.  
"I told you, I don't bring them back to life. I make them not dead, then after a minute I make them dead again. I don't bring them back to life and kill them." Emerson rolled his eyes at Ned. As he reached his hand towards Harold, Ned realized something.  
"Cloth. " Everyone waited for Ned to explain. "He's got cloth in his mouth, do you think he'd be able to talk?"

"Is there anyway to remove it?" Chuck questioned.  
"If you want to stick your fingers in and grab it out, be my guest." Emerson was growing impatient. They looked around but couldn't seem to find anything that would help remove it. Ned wasn't about to risk getting blood on his glove, nor would he let Chuck risk it either.  
"Why are there pictures of children up here like this?" Chuck felt sadder as she looked at each one. Emerson and Ned joined behind her to stare at the gruesome pictures.

"Do you think he did this? Harold? Maybe that's why he was murdered. Maybe in a way… he deserved it…?"

"Dead girl's got a point. If the murderer put these there to show his own victims, well, these are all children. Why break the pattern now? Now we all know Harold would disappear for long periods of time. Maybe the murderer knew just what he was up to and put an end to it." They all took a minute to process this.  
"So… now what?" Ned questioned.

"Now, you wake dead guy over there and find out who did this."  
"But… Emerson… he may be a very bad man who had it coming." Ned frowned.

"I took this job to find Harold Greene, not to see if he's a murderer."  
"Emerson, he killed children." Chuck frowned as well.  
"That's not my problem right now. Right now my problem is the time it's taking you to use your damn finger and bring him back to life to find out who did this." Although deep down inside, it really was his problem. Emerson Cod thought about his daughter being one of those children fallen victim to this man. Ned gave a sigh and approached Harold once more. He started his watch as it started to tick down. Now, every single second mattered. Ned touched the arm of Harold. Suddenly Harold's eyes opened and he coughed out the cloth in his mouth as it flew by Ned's head, who froze still for a moment. As Ned prepared to start asking him questions, Harold started to cough up blood. He continued to cough. Ned tried to get in a question during Harold's coughing attack but it was no use. His lungs had been filled with blood. There was no way he would be able to talk until they were cleared. Time was ticking by. Everyone was too focused to hear the sudden sound behind them. Dexter didn't know how to believe what he was seeing. He'd think of it as some sort of miracle, if he believed in miracles. Slowly he stood up to get a better view. He knew his work was always successful; yet, here was his newest victim, eyes open and breathing. It was something he couldn't explain. The touch from the man had some how brought him back. His eyes locked with Harold's.  
During Harold's coughing attack, he slowly but surely managed to raise his hand and point behind the three standing there. Dexter knew he was pointing to him. Quickly, he put away his syringes. No point in hiding now.


End file.
